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When Xavier was able to breathe again, he noticed the look on Wednesday’s face, a harmony of disgust and shock.
“Wen?”
She didn’t pull away from him but flinched at the nickname. “You shouldn’t be allowed to make me feel this way,” she said tightly. The anxiety that had been building up in his throat melted away. He gently touched his forehead to hers, counting the freckles that fanned the soft dip from her nose to her cheek. She glared up at him and he couldn’t help but grin back, knowing that she hated how well he knew her, the relief that came in not having to explain her feelings, as much as he longed for them.
“If it helps,” he offered, taking her hand and pressing it to his chest.
“Is that normal?” she asked, startled by the erratic flutter.
“When you’re in love,” he shrugged, stepping back. “If we’re going to…. whatever this is, I thought you should know. I’m not going to hide it.”
Wednesday looked around to check again that they were alone in the corridor, that there had been no witnesses to their first kiss. There was only the elegiac wail of a ghost around the corner.
“Xavier, I don’t – I can’t – ”
“I know,” he interrupted, too preoccupied with safeguarding his own pride to notice that she was suddenly flustered. He knew. Less than a month ago, when he’d confronted her, he hadn’t allowed himself to hope that she felt the same.
Are you jealous? he’d asked after she’d smoothly inserted herself between him and another girl in the lunch queue, handing him a tray. It felt like lately, whenever a girl tried to talk to him, Wednesday was suddenly at his elbow.
Jealous. She blinked. No. It merely occurred to me that given my earlier rejection of you, at some point, you might be inclined to move on.
And that’s a problem? he’d goaded, ready to skewer her with accusations of torment, of getting in the way, not that he wanted to move on. Wednesday was chronic. Would always be. He knew it down to his bones.
Yes, she’d answered simply, flooring him.
“I know,” he repeated, starting to walk back toward the library. It was enough to know that she coveted his affection. “It’s okay. I’ve seen – ”
“What have you seen.” She remained rooted to the spot, her voice clear and painful. In the last year, she’d grown into her identity as a psychic. She still firmly believed in anything that her Sight showed her but was often stubbornly skeptical of his visions.
“Two ravens. Blood on their beaks, circling a cul-de-sac.” He wasn’t sure it was a premonition; despite the blood it made him feel secure and welcomed. “I’ve seen us feeding them.”
W
“Are you two dating?”
To her credit, the girl, a werewolf with cascading chestnut hair like a 90s model, didn’t back down when Wednesday glared at her for interrupting their lunch. Next to her, Xavier started to inch away, aware that they might have been sitting close enough together to draw attention. Wednesday put her hand over his on the table in full view of everyone. Just last night Enid had cautioned her that anything less than a solid display of their relationship, undefined as it was, would lead people to question and girls to continue pursing Xavier. Her Xavier. She thought labels like ‘boyfriend and girlfriend’ too fickle, but Xavier was hers.
“We haven’t been on a date yet,” she replied. “We should rectify that,” she added, shooting him a questioning glance.
“That would be nice,” Xavier said after a moment. The tender look on his face made her want to take the steak knife from his tray to the throat of anyone who dared touch him in the ways she wanted to.
She barely registered the other girl’s annoyed sigh, the way her hair bounced as she sauntered off in defeat.
*
The street was practically empty. Xavier’s apartment was only a few blocks behind her. It felt a world away, but his touch was still all over her, a talisman. Wednesday gripped the old linked fence. She had walked. Xavier had walked with her to the corner of the complex before they parted.
Her heart was racing. It hurt.
Tentatively, she put one hand to her breast and waited for it to calm down.
It didn’t.
Xavier hadn’t been able to hide his excitement when she told him that she’d accepted a job there in town. I can come bring you coffee at work sometimes, he’d said. We can have dinner here at my apartment and it won’t be so late when you want to leave.
He hadn’t asked her to move in with him. It gave her pause, but only briefly. He knew her well enough to know that she liked her solitude.
The tempo of her heartbeats was familiar. She hadn’t played her cello in a few weeks; the internship kept her too busy and her neighbors at her apartment didn’t appreciate it. Still. She had a good memory for rhythm.
Is that normal?
When you’re in love.
Shakily, she took the lighter from her pocket and the flask from the inner pocket of her coat. The violence of the fire overrode her thoughts.
*
“I’m home,” she called out.
Xavier was at his easel by the window. The living room space was a mess. The corner of Wednesday’s mouth twitched. Their housekeeper was paid too well to speak her mind about it, but the elderly woman had it written in her contract that she never had to set foot there.
“Hey,” he put his brush down and wiped his hands down the front of his shirt, leaving fresh black streaks. His hair was pulled sharply back. He’d been hard at work on a series for a show at the Whitney all week and this was the first time she’d been back from the morgue at a reasonable hour, dusk a newborn whisper. “Welcome home.” He reached out and tugged lightly at the ends of her braids. They’d been living together for more than a month, but every time he said it, she could tell how happy he was.
He kissed her, bent over and trembling.
“I smell like death,” Wednesday murmured, though she wasn’t ashamed.
Xavier smiled against her lips, coaxing her to mirror him. “Suits you,” he said.
Wednesday locked her hands behind his neck and kissed him with fervor. “Take me to bed,” she commanded. Xavier stared down at her, his eyes dark and piercing. He bit his lip and nodded, pulling her close, lifting her up into his arms. “Wait,” she whispered when he put her down. “Xavier, I love you.”
He chuckled, pulling his shirt over his head and letting it fall to the ground. “I know.”
“I’ve never told you before,” she argued.
“Not those words, no,” he agreed. She put her hands on his chest to feel the cadence. “The first time you introduced me to your parents,” he said. “You called me yours. When we talked about what we were doing after Nevermore, you said long distance would be torture and then you FaceTimed me the first day we were apart. You accepted a job offer here. You told me you wanted us to have a home together. Wednesday, I know you love me. You don’t have to say it.” He kissed her again, carefully undoing the buttons of her blouse.
Wednesday’s breathing had become labored and warm. Her independence was something that she valued to a fault, but it felt so right and natural to have him undress her. She closed her fingers around the whorls of iron welded into love spells and let her body relax and accept what it wanted.
WX
For the rest of the night, neither of them uttered another word.